Night by the Fire
by Gregg Landsman
Summary: Leena's perspective on the new stranger in her life, and her feelings for a boy she lost ten years before.  Chrono Cross fanfics, a bit mushy.


Chrono Cross and all assocated characters are the property Squaresoft. All rights reserved.

Little thing I thought up. A bit sappy. Takes place before Viper Mansion.

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Night by the Fire

She wraps her arms around her knees, watching as the boy(_young man, really, handsome young man to be exact_) uses the element to cast the broken pieces of wood on fire.

He smiles to her, taking out the meats from the knapsack and placing them on her pan, moving them over the fire.

"Where'd you learn to cook?", she asks.

"My mother taught me," Serge responds, "After Dad disappeared, I sort of became the man of the house. I had to."

"I see…"

Her gaze wanders to the crackling fire as they remain silent. She knows he's uneasy with this. God knows she is, having to pretty much walk side-by-side with this amnsesiac, charming young man…

_What if he's not amnesiac?_

She shakes her head.

_Don't be silly. He's not Serge. Serge died ten years ago…_

"Leena?"

She looks up, as he hands her a wooden bowl with the cooked meats and vegetables, sitting down on his log as she nods in thanks.

She silently eats her dinner, eyes watching him as he eats his meal, looking about the forest, perking his ears at the distant sounds of Termina.

"Arni's different," he says.

"How so?"

"It was a fishing village," he says, smiling faintly, "Everywhere you go, you'd see some huge fish drawn up, or disposed fish entrails used for fertilizer. It was just how things were, over there. Mom would always complain that Dad would track the sea itself into the house when he came home."

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself as to ward off a terrible chill. He smiles, not seeing her, picking at his dinner.

"It's been…five years, at least, since Dad left," he says, "Mom never said how or where…"

"He died of a broken heart," she murmurs.

"…huh?"

"Wazuki died of a broken heart three years after Serge died," she says, her eyes avoiding his gaze, "Marge died a year later. Threw herself into the sea. We stopped fishing for a living after that, having seen three of our friends lost to the sea."

"Leena…"

"So _stop_ doing this!", she shouts, tossing the bowl at him, her companion just barely ducking out of the way as it flies past and shatters on a tree trunk.

She quickly stands, her fists clenching and unclenching as he climbs to his feet. She turns, to leave, Serge quickly running over and turning her around, ignoring it as she pounds her fists onto his chest.

He pulls her over, wrapping his arms around her, gathering her in his arms as she mutters and sobs, tears wetting his shirt as he sits on the log, holding her tightly. He wraps an arm around her waist, his other hand running through her light red hair, the same way he remembers he'd hold her when something had upset her.

"Who _are_ you?", she whispers, "Just tell me, please…"

"Leena, I-"

"We're not in the village," she says, "I don't care if you're a fugitive or just some poor, twisted…I don't care."

She looks up, into his eyes, looking down again and shaking her head.

"Just tell me who you _are_," she says, "Please."

"Leena…Leena, I _am_ Serge," he says, holding her arms and holding her at an arm's length, "I was attacked by a panther demon when I was seven. Then I was nearly drowned, but…but someone saved me, some big guy who…next thing I knew, Dad and Miguel brought me to this strange place and…"

He closes his eyes, shaking his head as she places her hand on his cheek.

_He…he does look like Serge. If Serge ever grew up, he would have looked just like him…_

"I don't know how to convince you," he says, her voice shakey, "I just remember so much…I remember when we first kissed right by your house, how I gave you a bracelet for your birthday…"

"We…kissed?"

"It was late, and your grandmother was asleep," he says, smiling, "We didn't want anyone to see…so I kissed you right before you walked through the door."

He sighs, letting her go as he rests his hands on his knees. She sits next to him, placing her hand on his.

"I…don't know who you are," she says, "You insist on being called Serge, and…"

She sighs, looking up.

"I don't know, maybe you name _is_ Serge, and you just think you're our Serge or…"

She looks over to him, a lump in her throat.

"Maybe you did live."

"Maybe I did," he responds, smoothing out her hair, "Leena?"

"There was never a body," she says, "The wave washed him out to sea, and we never found him. Maybe you ended up on the Water Dragon's island, or wound up somewhere else and only now made it back…"

"Leena, it's not like that," he responds, "I've been alive, and living in Arni for ten years. Please, believe me…"

She sighs, tears falling from her eyes as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"I don't know," she says, "I…just know you're the sweetest guy I've ever met. Really."

"Oh…"

He wraps an arm around her, placing his hand under her chin and lifting her face up to his.

"What about Kid?", she asks.

"About Kid?"

"I figured…"

"Oh…oh, no," he says, blushing brightly, "She and I never…"

"Ah…I see."

She wraps her arms around his neck, turning him to face her.

"Serge," she says, "I…can't say I'll be comfortable calling you that…but I _can_ try."

"I'd hope so."

"Yes…I hope so, to."

She leans in, lightly brushing her lips against his, his hands spasming before wrapping around her slender waist, ruffling her jacket. She closes her eyes, her fingers running through his hair as he pulls her to him.

She moans as he returns the kiss, his tongue brushing against her teeth, playfully batting with hers, Leena becoming surprised with how familiar he feels, how right this feels…

She gasps as he begins to lower her onto the log, one hand running up and down her back, his other at the small of her back as she hovers right above the log, some of her hair falling onto the wet, dead wood.

She moans as he ends the kiss, pulling her back up, her hair straining her vision of his faintly blushing, handsome face.

"W…what was that?", she asks.

"That…well, you always liked being very dramatic."

"I…did?", she asks, smiling widely, "I…you…we…"

She giggles, intertwining her hands tightly.

_He knew every single thing about me…how did he?_

"Did…," she starts, and catches herself, "You and I, that you remember, I mean…did we ever…"

"Ever what?"

"Make love?"

His cheeks turn a bright, tomato red as she says that, his breath catching in his throat and then choking out.

"No!", he quickly responds, "No, I mean…no, we never did. Really. We never did, never went that far…not yet."

"Ah…waiting for marriage?"

He nods, smiling.

She sighs, smiling with him, and leans against him. His hand wraps around her waist as the fire crackles on. And they sit there, together, eventually falling asleep so they can wait for the sun to rise above them.

****

THE END


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